


you can be my resolution

by Chaosandthecalm



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bondage, M/M, PWP without Porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 11:18:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5414840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaosandthecalm/pseuds/Chaosandthecalm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And where exactly am I?” he asks, voice drawling and bored as if he woke up tied up to chairs every single day. He hears a snarl and the blind fold is yanked from his eyes. He blinks at the sudden brightness and when his eyes adjust he can see his captor. They’re in a dingy motel room, with dark green carpet and a burnt orange bedspread on the mattress. </p><p>Misaki Yata leans toward him until they’re mere inches away, his bright red hair falling in his eyes.</p><p>“That’s not important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you can be my resolution

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at writing porn. Be gentle.

The first thing Fushimi becomes aware of when he comes to is the crappy 90’s music playing. It’s muffled and sounds tiny in his ears over the rushing but he still manages to scoff at it. The second thing he becomes aware of are the ropes cutting into his wrists and his ankles. He takes a deep breath and tries to remember where he was and how he got there. He opens his eyes slowly but all he can see is black. He’s blindfolded as well. 

He can hear someone moving around him and he stays perfectly still, listening. The person sounds small, probably a woman. They move around the room with hesitation, as if waiting for him to wake up is making them antsy. Fushimi doesn’t give them the satisfaction quite yet. He listens harder and can hear the faint sound of traffic. They were near a road. Where was he? 

All he can smell is industrial cleaners and some sort of air freshener that is probably be called ‘Mountain Rain’ or something else just as ridiculous. He shifts in the chair slightly and freezes when it makes a noise. The person in the room with him stops moving and Fushimi holds his breath. 

“You’re awake.” 

The familiar voice sends a feeling of dread rushing over him.

“I am. And where exactly am I?” he asks, voice drawling and bored as if he woke up tied up to chairs every single day. He hears a snarl and the blind fold is yanked from his eyes. 

He blinks at the sudden brightness and when his eyes adjust he can see his captor. They’re in a dingy motel room, with dark green carpet and a burnt orange bedspread on the mattress. 

Misaki Yata leans toward him until they’re mere inches away, his bright red hair falling in his eyes.

“That’s not important.”

“No? Then what is your objective here Mi-sa-ki? Hm?” 

Yata’s lip curls and he looks him up and down. 

“They told me to pump you for information. About JUNGLE.”

“And by they you mean HOMRA? How interesting. They must be getting desperate since they sent you.” 

Yata straightens up and crosses his thin arms over his chest. Fushimi keeps his face entirely passive, tries not to let the stirring in the pit of his stomach distract him. Being tied up with Yata standing over him was a little much for him to handle even on a good day. 

“They thought I would be the best person for the job.”

“Tsk. I guess they’re dumber than they look. What are you going to do? Beat me over the head with your skateboard?” he asks, raising one eyebrow. Yata smirks and takes a step back. Fushimi notices a moment too late that he’s blushing. Yata’s hands are shaking as he undoes the knot in the sweater that’s tied around his waist, letting it fall to the ground. Fushimi doesn’t let his eyes widen by sheer force of will. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice coming out bored and unimpressed.

Yata doesn’t answer, just drops his eyes and lifts his arms, pulling his oversized shirt over his head. His skin is pale and glowing in the bright light of the room. Fushimi feels the ropes cut into his wrists as he shifts. 

“Misaki..”

“I told you not to call me that.” Misaki says, voice wavering. 

His small hands undo his shorts, the zipper so incredibly loud in Fushimi’s ears. And then Yata is standing in front of him in nothing but a pair of tight black boxer briefs.

“What is this?” Fushimi asks, marveling at how steady his voice sounds despite the fact that his entire body is shaking.

“Torture.” 

Fushimi snorts and rolls his eyes even thought all he wants right at that moment is to be untied, so he could show Yata the real meaning of the word.

“They thought this would work? You parading your skinny ass in my face?” 

Yata is blushing so hard that it has started to creep down his chest but his face is set. He hooks his thumbs into the waist band of his underwear and Fushimi has a second to steel himself before he is presented with every inch of Yata, completely naked, in front of him. His breath catches in his throat and he hopes it hadn’t made a noise. 

Yata’s eyes are trained on the ground and Fushimi is grateful because he can’t imagine what his face looks like right at that moment. He’s trying, really trying, not to stare. But it’s all soft, pale skin and freckles and lithe muscles. Yata runs a shaky hand down his chest and through the patch of hair that’s just a shade darker than the hair on his head until he grips his soft cock gently. Fushimi breathes in sharply and it’s drowned out by Yata’s soft sigh. 

Fushimi’s eyes are glued to Yata, the short, gentle strokes of his hand and the way his white teeth bite into his plush lower lip. 

“Misaki…what are you doing?” he’s proud to say that his voice still sounds steady even though his entire body is trembling. The ties at his wrists are starting to chafe his skin as he pulls at them.

“Do you like this?” is the whispered reply and then those eyes flick up and look right at him and Fushimi is on fire. Yata is hard and the tip of cock is pink and slick as he runs a thumb over it, shuddering at the touch. The room feels a hundred degrees hotter and Fushimi can feel sweat prickling at his skin under his jacket. 

He stays silent as Yata turns around and grabs something from the bed. Fushimi tries to see what it is, his pulse kicking up and then there’s a soft ‘click’ and his whole body freezes.

“Misaki…”

Yata turns around and spills clear liquid onto shaking fingers, some of it running off his hand and dripping onto the floor. Fushimi is shifting in his seat, the heat in the pit of his stomach growing as he watches with rapt attention. 

“What..”

Yata drops to his knees and Fushimi jerks against his binds. He’s just out of reach, facing Fushimi with his eyes lowered and his full cock hanging heavy between his thighs. They’re both sweating and Fushimi can feel his muscles straining as he tries to get closer. 

Yata’s eyes rise to meet his as his hand moves around and reaches behind him. Fushimi can’t see it but as Yata’s head falls forward and he takes in a sharp breath he knows exactly what’s happening. Yata’s shoulder is straining as he moves his arm, his breathing coming in short gasps. 

“Fuck…it’s so tight…so hot..” he says quietly but he might as well have screamed it because it crashes over Fushimi in a wave. Fushimi can’t believe that Yata is doing this. The same person who blushes when he comes within ten feet of a woman is kneeling on the floor and fingering himself. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to ignore the burning desire in his veins. He wants to break out of the ropes holding him down, push Yata onto the carpet and fuck him so hard that he wouldn’t be able to remember his own name.

“Misaki…stop.” He says in a strained voice. 

Yata looks at him with one eyebrow raised delicately, arm still moving, the muscles shifting under skin glistening with sweat.

“Is this bothering you?” 

Fushimi clicks his tongue and looks away.

“You’re embarrassing yourself.” 

“Am I?” Yata’s voice is wavering and it cuts off on a soft gasp as he twists his wrist. Fushimi’s lungs feel heavy, his body burning.

Yata pulls his hand away and crawls over on his hands and knees. Fushimi’s eyes follow his movements and fuck he wants…he wants so much. He wants to bite and suck and kiss. Yata stops just out of reach and raises one hand to run it up Fushimi’s thigh. His breathing is coming faster now, his skin buzzing with the touch. Yata stops just at the top of his thigh, his fingers rubbing gentle circles.

“I don’t think I am.” He whispers and then his hand darts out and squeezes the bulge pressing against the zipper of Fushimi’s pants. His spine arches and he gasps but the hand disappears immediately leaving him aching.

“Misaki…”

“Stop calling me that.” 

Yata sits back on his heels and his arm reaches around again as he sinks down onto his own fingers. Fushimi wants to sob, wants to beg, but instead he steels himself and watches. 

“You’re so hard Saru…” 

Fushimi feels a shiver at those bitten lips breathing out his name.

“I want you inside me…stretching me open…” Yata groans and rocks his hips back against his hand. 

“Misaki please…”

“Help me so I can help you…”

Fushimi sets his jaw and tears his eyes away, focusing on the ceiling instead. 

“Never.” 

He feels another feather light touch on his leg and he looks down against his better judgement. Yata is using his leg for leverage as he fucks himself open, small moaning gasps escaping his mouth, his eyes heavy lidded and staring right at Fushimi.

“Fuck me Saru…” he breathes out, pink tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. 

His resolve is breaking. He wants to give Yata whatever he needs, as long as it means that he can touch that skin and kiss that mouth.

Yata’s dick is so hard it looks almost painful, precum dripping off the tip and landing on the carpet. Fushimi wants to taste him.

“Misa…”

He’s cut off by a hoarse cry as finally, fucking finally, Yata finds that spot inside of himself, his spine arching and his eyes falling closed.

“Took you long enough.” He says harshly. His wrists are raw from the ropes and he’s covered in sweat. His dick is pushing against the fabric of his jeans. 

Yata doesn’t respond, just lets out another drawn out moan. 

“Misaki just let me…please…” he sounds desperate and he doesn’t care. 

“Saru…will you help me?”

“Yes.”

Yata’s eyelashes flutter as he opens his eyes to look at him. They’re blazing and Fushimi feels it down to his core. His cock jumps in his pants and he groans. 

“Come back to HOMRA.” 

Fushimi goes still and his eyes widen.

“What?”

“Promise me. Promise me you’ll come back.”

His heart is pounding in his chest and his arms are straining with the effort to not rip through the restraints.

“Misaki…”

Yata’s eyebrows draw together and he moves back, away from Fushimi and he can breathe for a second and then Yata is pushing onto his hand harder. His breath is puffing out in tiny moans and his face is dripping with sweat as he rides his hand. His muscles are shivering under his skin and Fushimi can’t take it. Needs him.

“I promise.” 

Yata freezes and their eyes are locked. His hand is still moving inside of him and Fushimi mouth is dry and his skin is so hot he feels like he’s melting.

“I promise. Anything you want…just please…Yata…”

They’re a soft intake of breath and then trembling hands are undoing the binds at his ankles then his wrists and Fushimi is on the floor in a heartbeat, arms winding around Yata’s burning back.

They tumble onto the floor together and Fushimi is between Yata’s shaking thighs and it’s so hot and everything feels like a jolt to his system. Their lips crash together in a battle of teeth and spit and Fushimi can taste blood but he doesn’t care. 

His fingers drop down, finding Yata’s hole, fucked open by his fingers and so wet. He groans and thrusts his tongue deeper into Yata’s mouth as he slips one finger in, the heat making him dizzy. Yata throws his head back, tearing his mouth away, a low groan escaping him. Fushimi pulls away, ignoring the small whimper as he pulls his finger free and strips off his jacket. Yata is writhing against the floor, hands coming up to grab any part of Fushimi he can reach.

“Please…Saru…” 

Fushimi growls and grabs the lube that’s still on the floor where Yata had dropped it, flicking it open and pouring in on his fingers. He undoes his jeans one handed and sighs in relief when he pulls his cock free. He slicks himself up quickly, just two short strokes and then he grabbing Yata’s trembling thigh and flipping him over. Yata’s chest presses down onto the floor and his hands are scratching at the carpet as he tilts his hips up, exposing himself to Fushimi. His mouth is watering at the sight, that pink hole stretched and ready for him. He wants to taste, wants to lick him open until he’s melting into the floor but resists. Next time. 

He lines up, long fingers wrapping around slim hips and thrusts. He doesn’t wait, doesn’t have the self-control and Yata cries out, back arching. They both freeze. Fushimi is shivering at the feeling of tight, wet heat surrounding him so perfectly. His nails sink into Yata’s skin and he hears a slight whimper as he starts to move, pulling out slightly just to slam back into Yata. 

They pace is brutal and Yata is keening under him, his moans ending on a sob as he pushes his hips back against him, engulfing him so fully. He needs to come so bad that he’s aching with it. 

“Fushimi…” 

He growls and grabs a handful of Yata’s hair, pulling him off the floor and against his chest. 

“Say it again…”

Yata is gasping, bouncing in his lap desperately.

“Fushimi…fuck…”

Fushimi reaches the hand that’s not gripping Yata’s hair around and finds Yata’s cock. Its swollen so full, so ready to come. He strokes it in time with his shallow thrusts, shifting his hips so he can hit Yata’s prostate with every upward stroke. They’re both panting, sweat running down their skin. Fushimi can see stars behind his eyes as Yata clamps down around him, pushes down harder.

“Yata…”

Yata lets out a broken moan and his hands grab onto Fushimi’s thighs so hard that he’s scared it’ll break the skin. Fushimi can feel him shuddering as he finally comes in thick, hot strips over Fushimi’s hand and his stomach. He’s shivering so hard that Fushimi has to wrap one arm around him, keeping him in place as he pushes up into that impossible tight heat and then he’s falling too, filling Yata up.

They’re both shaking as Yata collapses, barely catching himself before he falls face first into the carpet. Fushimi lays down next to him, the only sound in the room is their heavy breathing and that shitty 90’s music from next door. 

“You promised…” 

Fushimi looks over at Yata who’s gazing at him through heavy, unfocused eyes. He doesn’t need to respond because a moment later those eyes close and Yata’s breathing turns steady and slow, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. 

Fushimi thinks he should leave. Should grab his stuff and not look back. But then he looks at the sweep of Yata’s nose and the tiny dusting of freckles across his cheekbones and he just…doesn’t. He lets his eyes close, breathing evening out, one hand reaching until it finds Yata’s.

**Author's Note:**

> Does is make any sense? Probably not. Did I use it as an excuse to write filthy smut? Absolutely. 
> 
> I watched season one of this show a looooong time ago and these two just won't leave me alone.


End file.
